Bioshock Imminent
by Fifth
Summary: Sequel to Bioshock Infinite. In alternate universe, a man arrives in Columbia to help out his uncle, a budding gun maker, but instead discovers that he was sent to kill a girl hidden inside a tower. With the city on the brink of uprising, he must find out why he has no memory of a life before reaching the city, and why Elizabeth is the key to saving everything he knows.
1. Execution

_**B**ioshock **I**mminent_

By Fifth

(Disclaimer: Shame on any company who thinks I would use their characters for monetary profit. They can sue me when the economy uses "fun" and "entertainment" as acceptable currency, because I have a lot of that.)

**(Rewritten A/N intro:)  
**

**This is a SEQUEL to Bioshock Infinite. There's really no other way I can put it, despite the story details not completely unraveling right away. I loved the original story and wanted to write my own fanfiction, but also wanted to pay tribute to some of the rules of the original story.**

**There are some tiny details changed in this ALTERNATE UNIVERSE to suit my own tastes for the characters, for the sake of practicality and flexibility. This takes place in the universe where Booker was a martyr for the Vox Revolution, and from there, it gets a little stranger. Read, and enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Execution**

* * *

_"Dreams is about right."_

_- Theo_

* * *

**1912**

**The Rainchaser – Somewhere in the sky**

"I gotta say, I ain't never seen no mutt like you before, boy," the man across from him said, disturbing his sleep.

Theo opened his eyes to the dusty cabin and the low sound of engines overtook his ears. He had another one of those dreams, the ones where he'd be half awake and half asleep. Those dreams were always a blessing and a curse; they were a blessing because he could see them playing on those trodden streets, making fun with what little they had owned, and all the time in the world to spare. And that same dream was a curse because he was so aware of how fake it was, and could barely stomach the reality that even in his fantasies he was a fool.

"Hey, I'm talkin' to you, boy," the black man said. He was tall, bald, and lean, his sinewy muscles rippling across his body. Theo didn't know whether the man was keeping on a workout schedule or was just simply underfed. But the man was young and had an innocent bravado about him, puffing his chest like a child who had always been through hard times and didn't know the ways of politeness.

"A mutt?" Theo asked.

"Yeah, like a dog that you can't tell what kind it is. That's what you remind me of."

The guy was referring to Theo's race, obviously.

"Mm," he remarked with a shrug.

"What blood you come from, dog?"

Here he was, more or less far away from home on a ship that was taking passengers to the promised land, and the first hurdle was some intrusive poor boy who had no business asking questions.

"Guess."

"You one of them Chinamen. You got them eyes. But you too dark to just be that."

Theo smirked. "I'm also black."

"Nu-unh. I knows me a brother when I see one. You ain't no brother."

"Does it really matter?"

"Sure 'nuff it does. Heard there's good work up there but the police, they be beatin' on colored folk like us," the black man explained. "And since you's a mutt, an unwanted _dog_, a tainted mix of blood and water, they gonna have some fun with you."

He adjusted the worker's rag on his head and ran some fingers through his hair. "We're all dogs. If that wasn't true, then it wouldn't be a dog's life."

"What's your name?" the man asked. "Mine's Buck Harrison."

Theo shook his hand. "Theodore Lin."

Suddenly, light spilled in through the window as they finally penetrated the clouds. Theo looked around and noticed several of the other passengers quietly sitting on the ground with their backs leaned against the cargo boxes. There were people from all backgrounds searching for work in perhaps the most glamorous city on the planet. Columbia's economy had created an imbalance in world powers and its constantly booming development opened more jobs in the sky. It was a risk for minorities to live there, but the separated sections of the city were supposedly no worse than the cities down below.

"Can't find no work, huh?" the black guy continued. "You a hobo?"

"More or less," he replied. "But I have job set up for me already."

"No shit? Where?"

"The place ain't looking for any more hires, man," Theo said.

"Naw, I just want to know."

He took a breath and crossed his legs. "My uncle runs a weapons factory for Fink Manufacturing. I'm supposed to apprentice him because he plans to develop more weapons over the next quarter."

Buck looked like he was processing that last comment, trying to hide a genuine feeling of surprise.

"No shit…" the man murmured.

"No shit."

The microphone in the corner of the cargo bay buzzed with static.

_"Attention. We are now in Columbian airspace. ETA five minutes. Hallelujah."_

"What about you?" Theo asked, more so out of reciprocity than actual interest.

"Me?" Buck asked, putting a hand to his chest. "I'm just here to explore the city and look for whatever I can get. I'm very good at bein' polite, you know. Like 'yessir, no sir.' You know. All that shit. I'm gonna get big in this town, you know what I mean?"

Theo slightly rolled his eyes. "So you're going to rise up the servant ranks or become the token black guy in a quartet?"

"Naw, not like that," Buck muttered with some ambiguity.

"Sports it is then. Don't think they have a Negro League up there."

"Nope. A little different than that, my friend. Don't forget. Columbia may call herself her own bitch up in the sky, but it's still America. Anything can happen with a little push."

"Is that right?"

"America's a place of dreams, man."

Theo looked away.

"Dreams is about right."

He thought about that for another few moments, but before he could finish those thoughts, shadows zipped by the window and the room itself blinked. A whooshing sound came past and the small patrol ship began tailing them. The gravity in the room started to shift as everyone began leaning towards the bow.

Buck braced himself against a crate. "What the…"

"We're slowing down," Theo said.

* * *

**Washington Square**

She kept her hat low and made sure that no one could see her, though she was almost certain no one could recognize her anyway. This day was only one of two that she could explore the outside world—an opportunity that only came twice a month, and if she was ill-behaved, only once. Elizabeth often spent her time shopping in certain areas of the city, and she suspected that she was always being watched. This time, however, she had gotten lucky by snatching a hat off a sleeping woman and wandered into a gathering crowd. She had no idea what was happening here, but judging from the jeering towards the center, she sensed something awful was going to happen.

"Move! Out of the way!" a voice shouted behind her.

The officers bumped into her before she could move. Another set of officers behind her nudged a prisoner towards the center of the square. He was older, with a rugged five o' clock shadow and light brown hair, and his face had been beaten swollen from his time in captivity.

"Yeah!" someone from the crowd shouted. "Cut his fucking head off!"

The stimulus was becoming a little too much and she felt overwhelmed, but when the prisoner finally passed her, his head slightly turned and acknowledged her presence, as if asking a question.

"Kill that Vox scum!" another exclaimed.

"Shoot him dead!"

"Lynch him up and strip his body bare!"

The crowd was getting worked up. Elizabeth's eyes followed the guards towards the middle of the square and she noticed a platform. Above the platform was Jeremiah Fink, the owner of Fink Manufacturing, and next to him was a noose. She finally realized that she had just stumbled into a public execution, and that this was the first time she had really wandered outside the safe zone.

"Well, well, folks. If this isn't a nice lead-in to our raffle this weekend, by golly, I'm not sure what is!" Fink spoke over a speaker he'd built, likely for this occasion.

The man was forced up the steps, limping his way to a certain death. She didn't know what to do except watch and lifted her hat just a little bit to see clearly. Then, she felt a tug at her arm.

"Miss Elizabeth," her servant, Ingrid, said. "We can't stay here. You can't get lost."

Elizabeth turned her head and hushed her. "Just a minute."

"You can't be this far outside…"

"Outside what?"

"We must go _now_," Ingrid pleaded.

Then, two people from the crowd moved beside her, probably making their way in for a better view.

"Ah, the execution," the man said, his voice coated with a British accent. "I've always hated these things. Barbarous."

To her other side, a woman, who looked nearly identical, cocked her head just a bit. "I fail to see the reason why we're here, Robert. We've been here so many times before."

"There is a meddler in this midst, dear sister. I'm merely running on a hunch," the man replied.

"A disturbance? Is that why you informed him?"

Ingrid nudged Elizabeth again. "Miss Elizabeth, we have to get back. You cannot see this!"

"No," the woman said, turning to face Elizabeth. "Stay."

"You'll want to see this," Robert said.

Elizabeth recognized her. "Aren't you…Rosalind—"

"Stay exactly where you are. You'll know what to do," Rosalind Lutece said to her. She gestured to the man Elizabeth assumed to be her twin and walked away, disappearing into the crowd, escorting Ingrid back into the sea of people. Elizabeth watched her servant disappear and looked back at the stage, where film reels were projecting a powerful image onto the Washington House of Justice, which had a white screen draped over it. The film showed Vox Populi rebels committing barbarous acts against the people.

"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present to you…" Fink continued with a gesture, "the one and only Booker DeWitt! The False Shepherd! The Heathen of Highest Proportions! The leader of the Vox Populi scum that infests our city this very moment."

The False Shepherd was shoved into the middle of the stage, and upon his reveal the crowd burst into frenzy, jeering, shouting, and spitting. His eyes stared into the distance as though he were dreaming, thinking about someplace else, probably far away.

"It is time for us to cripple their infrastructure and rip the heart from the vessel that is their revolution! Allow us to strip the tumor from Columbia at last!"

They clamored and cheered and screamed and shouted and begged to have the execution underway. She had never seen death before. Behind Fink, priests with white robes appeared out of nowhere, and another figure appeared at the base of the steps, making his way up slowly, step-by-heavy-step. He towered over Fink and the rest of the guards by a good few inches and occupied a greater presence. For some reason, Elizabeth thought that the hastily built stage itself was sunken in one side, protesting his weight as he stood next to Fink.

"He was captured by Fink Manufacturing's new Head of Security, Mr. Torga. Because Fink Manufacturing aims to keep the citizens of Columbia safe," Fink announced, shamelessly promoting his own company while emotions ran high.

Mr. Torga looked more machine than man, with the bottom half of his face covered with a respirator unlike anything seen in Columbia before. Fink must have been busy putting his engineers to work, and the technology keeping that man together will likely show up at the annual fair. The rest of his body was hidden underneath that long, intimidating trenchcoat he wore, but something about the way he walked didn't seem right.

The priests began chanting lowly.

"Do you have any last words before we send you to hell where you belong?" Fink asked.

The man was hardly in any mood to speak, but his mouth managed to open, and the crowd's silence followed.

"Everyone knows why I am here," the man spoke. "And of all times, of all possibilities, I believe there is a reason why I stand here before you."

"Yeah, to die!" someone from the crowd shouted. But there were no cheers.

"I am the False Shepherd," Booker continued. "And I had an obligation to find the Lamb and take her away so I may repay my debt. But things changed. I know now the events that will transpire, and I know now, that it is not my role to become the one you all fear."

Elizabeth stood completely still, and as he finished his last sentence, his gaze tracked her down. He looked right into her eyes. At that very moment she knew he was looking at her; she realized that he knew who she was and where she came from, and that he had been thinking about her for a long time.

The executioner wrapped the noose around Booker's neck.

"Anna…it is not in this world that you and I can find a future where I can have you back. It is not in this world that I can watch you grow. Whatever you do, please know that I never meant to throw you away."

Mr. Torga gave a nod over to the executioner, ordering him to grab the lever.

"Don't forget me, Anna. You don't know who I am, but listen to me…"

The executioner gripped the handle on the lever.

"You must fight! Fight for your freedo—"

The plank underneath him dropped and Booker DeWitt was hanged.

The crowd applauded in unison, a mob without a mentality teetering on the fringes of order and chaos, and Elizabeth's concentration was shattered. She had been in a trance, and wasn't aware that she had turned away. She didn't want to look at the body; somehow, she knew it'd be painful to watch.

"Miss Elizabeth!" Ingrid shouted from a distance, the voice pitched just enough that it carried through the crowd.

She turned towards her servant, who was hidden in the back, trying to shove people away.

Before Elizabeth could say anything a shadow swept over the crowd, followed by a chirping, almost shrieking call, and her heart sank. He was here. When Songbird landed on top of the building, the crowd shifted from thrilled to horrified. Many shielded their eyes out of hopes that it wouldn't attack them. Songbird, perched next to the flagpole, craned its neck and turned its head to get a better view of the crowd.

"They know you're here," Robert said, suddenly appearing behind her.

She turned to him. "Wh…who are you?"

"Nobody important for now," Rosalind chimed in. "But if there are any chances you should be taking, now's the time."

"And oh, my. Speaking of chances, by any chance, is that a flaming ship over there?" Robert asked, pointing into the distance. "I do believe it's headed this way."

Elizabeth looked at where he was pointing and was shocked to find a flaming airship encroaching the square at breakneck speed, trailed by a horde of police aircraft. People who weren't evacuating the square were in its direct path.

"I…I don't understand…"

"If you want to see Paris," Robert said to her, "then you might want to stop that ship from exploding."

Her jaw dropped.

* * *

**Minutes earlier…**

**The Rainchaser – Columbia Airspace**

The officers had the cargo door opened and the immigrants lined up along the crates. Buck scoffed throughout the entire process, making no effort to conceal how much he hated authorities checking up on the airships.

"A friend of mine says this shit happens a lot," Buck told him. "Just keep your wits about you and they won't pick on you."

The chief officer stood in between several of the policemen who stared at the immigrants as wolves did their prey, his baton already drawn and lightly beating the palm of his hand. The ship captain, a ragged Hispanic man who seemed like he hadn't seen solid ground in decades, was shuffling through some papers to hand to the authorities.

"Where are these…" the chief started, "_hungry mouths_ coming from?"

"We took a flight from San Francisco, sir," the ship captain told him, handing over the trade manifest that detailed everything that was on the ship. "Was going to drop them off in Shantytown by four o' clock."

"Mm," the chief remarked, looking at the papers. "You're a bit late."

"Had some turbulence down below. Delayed us a few minutes or so," the captain replied. "Is this a routine stop, sir? Or are we free to go?"

The officer smirked nonchalantly. "Free? To go? That's an interesting way of putting it."

"I didn't mean anything by it, sir. I just want to be on time."

"But you're not on time, and when a transport ship carrying capital goods is late, the total pay for the contract will be penalized with taxes," the chief said to him, almost taking in delight. "Do you have any objections to this, captain?"

The ship captain wasn't thrilled about it.

"You're free to object. Don't let my presence hinder you from fully expressing yourself."

"…if I've been penalized, then so be it," the captain said, maintaining his composure. "Is that all?"

"No."

The passengers looked nervous. This obviously wasn't a routine stop.

"This isn't the usual route to Shantytown. Especially when carrying workers aboard. We'll have to run a full sweep of the interior for suspicious cargo, given the recent activities by the Vox Populi," the officer said, handing the papers back.

"A sweep? This is unusual."

The police lieutenant snapped his fingers and the patrolmen began looking around the cabin. The passengers on board were uneasy, but as long as there wasn't anything suspicious on board, then hopefully they'd be fine.

"Unusual circumstances, captain. If you mind, then you can turn this ship right back around, but I don't think you have the fuel for that."

The ship captain swallowed and returned to join the rest of the crew, who were lined up in front of the passengers. Theo was somewhat uneasy because they were in the sky, but being who he was, he wasn't too concerned with intrusive authorities. Their kind loved to hassle the common man, not by choice but by nature. He could never personally recall a time when an officer has protected a citizen, and while there _were_ instances where the police have helped the public, at least ninety percent of the time they hassled the innocent. Although they sought to rid society of crime, he caught on early that the existence of crime is what gave them their power. And any organization that is given power has no incentive to relinquish it. He learned that all too well, and wouldn't be surprised if they slapped on an extremely hefty price tag for entering the city.

Theo didn't become alert until one of the officers tapped the edge of a crate, and the sound echoed.

"What's in here?" the policeman asked.

The captain looked at his papers. "Uhh…"

He glanced around at the other passengers. There were at least thirty of them, including three families of four or five individuals. Many of them were blank-faced, not knowing what could be wrong with this situation. But some of the others watched closely, as though awaiting the officer's next move, which put him on edge.

"Those are fruits. Cherries from Rainier."

"It's more hollow than the others," the officer said next. "The regulations on trade state that crates must be shipped completely full. And what's this?"

The baton tapped on the edge of the crate.

"It's not sealed either."

"Come on, officer. Those are just items."

He scoffed. "We'll see."

Hanging his baton to his side, the officer reached for the tarp hanging on top of the crate and pulled it off. He dug his fingers into the fresh wood and lifted it off while the other officers gathered around. Theo took note of his surroundings; the cargo bay was relatively silent save for the obtrusive sound of the engines, but he could feel the tension rising.

"What's in there?" another officer asked.

"Just wait," the chief officer hushed, raising his voice. He walked over and moved the officer aside. "I've never seen an unsealed crate of perishables before."

The top of the crate was thrown to the side as a few officers took a peek into what was inside. Cherries.

"See? Nothing," the ship captain said. "Are you done here?"

The chief turned around, and just as he did, the crate completely fell apart, bursting at the sides. The cherries fell all over the place, as did the carbines that were sloppily packaged underneath a sheet of plywood. Upon seeing the weapons, the room froze.

One of the passengers behind Theo grabbed an officer and slit his throat with a small knife. The motion was so fast that another second or so passed before blood began spilling from the wound, causing the officer to gurgle and wrap his hands around his neck, desperately trying to close it. At this moment the other officers panicked and began drawing weapons, but not before several of the other passengers began assaulting them. The attackers were mostly male, relatively young and able-bodied, and were carrying small slashing weapons. Some had pistols, and as they drew them from their holsters, the officers on the other side of the room began shooting. The first shots missed and hit an innocent bystander shielding himself in a corner. The officers split up and took cover behind the crates dividing them from everyone else. The gunshots stopped for just a second as everyone tried to gather their breath.

The man who slit the officer's throat stood up and wiped some blood across his face, red and gleaming as the stripes on the flag. The innocents were sitting helpless in the middle of the standoff.

"Vox!" the chief shouted. "You have some fucking nerve to bring weapons aboard!"

The ship captain drew his broomhandle and laughed. "The way I see it, officer, _you_ have some nerve. Walking right into a snake pit takes _cojones_."

"You won't get away with this alive!"

"Maybe you should concern yourself with your own health first, officer!" the captain shouted back, firing off a few rounds.

Theo kneeled and shielded his head, looking for a place to hide himself. Before he could move, the ship started taking off at full-throttle, causing everyone on board to lose balance. Some crates that were stacked dropped on top of people, killing them, and gunshots rang out. The firefight had begun.

Daylight spun throughout the room as the ship banked hard left and more crates fell over. As Theo looked for the quickest path to the helm, another broken crate, labeled "flammables" in red ink, burst open from bullet fire. He flinched thinking that it would explode, but thankfully the petroleum inside had not ignited. He trekked through a sea of terrified immigrants and flying bullets to get to the stairs, but the situation got worse when some idiot let off a shot that sparked the fuel on fire. Theo turned around and watched the flames spread on one side of the room.

"What're you doin' boy?! Get moving!" a voice said from behind. He looked and saw Buck following closely.

Then the entire crate exploded. Air began rushing into the room and skyscrapers appeared to be in plain sight. The ship was barely navigating the treacherous structures, but Theo had no clue if they would ever reach their destination. It was unlikely at this point, he thought to himself in an understated fashion.

He and Buck escaped the cargo bay, still ringing with gunfire, with the added effect of a broken hull and spreading flames. The airship, partially kept afloat by a balloon system, began tilting to one side because one of the balloons had been punctured. The flames licked the exterior and it wasn't long before the entire side of the ship was completely ablaze. Police sirens blared as backup pursued the Vox-commandeered airship.

"What now?" Buck asked.

Theo thought for a second. They were pretty close to the city itself, and this ship wasn't going to be flying for long. It would have to land soon if the pilot didn't want to sink into the sea below. The two made their way to the controls next to the doorway.

The flames would suffocate everyone on board if there was no air circulation.

"Let's open the cargo door," he said.

"Are you nuts?!"

He looked at the control pad, but wasn't completely sure of what to do. There was a lever.

"No. Just ballsy."

Theo pulled down the lever and the steel doors began to lower. An intercom in the cabin began calling out.

_"Attention, cargo doors are now opening. Repeat, cargo doors are opening."_

Air rushed into the bay, revealing exactly what was behind them. Theo went to the window to see where the ship was headed.

"A town square. People."

He ran to the helm of the ship, which was just another few hallways down, and met up with the pilot. The ship was quickly losing stability.

"Land there," Theo yelled as he entered the room.

"What?!" the pilot asked, her hands glued to the wheel.

"THERE. In the square."

"Are you nuts?!"

He was unmoved.

"We need to land there or everyone's going to die," he said. "The ship is on fire. I don't want to die. Do _you_ want to die?"

She was about to panic. "I…I don't know what…"

"Enough of this."

Theo reached for the controls, but as he did, she punched him in the face.

"Ow!"

"If anyone's landing this ship, it's going to be me!" she stated.

He massaged the section of the jaw where she'd planted her fist.

"Brace yourself."

* * *

**The Rainchaser – Washington Square**

"What can I do?" Elizabeth asked helplessly. "Please! Tell me."

The ship was approaching fast, and it didn't look too stable. If the flames continued to spread, more balloons would burst and everyone on board would die.

"How's your reaction time?" Robert asked. "You'll need it."

The people around her began to scatter. Fink was nowhere to be found, and neither were his security guards. In mere seconds, the square was in a full-scale panic, and as the crowd went in one direction, her servant Ingrid tried moving in the other. Elizabeth witnessed the flaming ship lose speed; if it landed in the square, all sorts of people would be killed.

But something caught her eye. She squinted, and noticed that there was a gray ripple protruding from the base of the flames.

"Hey. That's—"

When she turned to Robert, he was gone. Elizabeth knew exactly what to do.

Mustering the rest of her courage, she sprinted towards the edge of the square in the direction of the ship, moving past civilians who were hasty to leave. On the ground at the edge, next to the fence, was a weeping child who had lost his mother. She reached the fringe of the platform, which doubled as an extended observation space for people to relax, and stood her ground. The wind swept her hat away.

She was finally revealed to Songbird.

* * *

Theo trusted his life to this young pilot, likely the captain's daughter, who probably had little flight experience. He wasn't sure whether to scream at her not to screw up or trust that she'd do a good job. Nonetheless she looked deep in concentration, sweat dripping down her chin as she maneuvered past floating structures.

"So, you're proficient at this piloting thing," was what he managed to come up with.

She shot him a glare. "Shut up, _pendejo_."

As Theo paced along the side of the wall, Buck made his way in from a short inspection of the cargo bay. "Civilian casualties minimal."

He raised an eyebrow at this statement. Which one of them was he speaking to?

"We're going to get a whooping from Daisy with this one."

"If we survive," the black man said, walking up to the window.

"We'll make it!" she hissed.

Footsteps came their way.

"There's the pilot!" a voice yelled from the doorway.

It was a patrolman. Just as he came through the door, Theo managed to strike him in the neck because he had been hidden just to the side. The guard hung his head down to grasp his neck, and then he shot a knee up to the man's face, knocking him out cold.

"Impressive," Buck said. "Didn't know you could scuffle."

Theo looked down at the limp body, then up to the pilot, who gave him a nod of thanks. Just as he'd had enough of unwanted surprises, the entire ship rocked them off-balance.

"What was that?" the pilot asked.

"That was our fuel," Buck said. "Shit. I think we're about to go up in smoke."

She pounded the wheel out of frustration.

"Almost there! Just hold on. We just need to land."

Theo walked up to the window of the helm as they were quickly losing altitude. The buildings to the side were already close enough that they would land, but he wasn't sure if the next tank would explode. This could be it.

He pressed his hand up next to the window and got the closest view of Columbia that he'd ever had. It was spectacular, and unlike any place he had ever seen before; a city of dreams with rails in the sky. If the next tank exploded now, they wouldn't even touch the edge of the ground. Likely, they would combust, crash into the quantum field keeping the city afloat, and take a several mile plunge back to the Earth.

In the distance was an evacuating crowd, but he could see a figure standing close to the edge of an observation deck, her dress dancing with the wind. She was standing strong with her hands held out and had no intention of moving. How strange.

He pressed his other hand up to the deck and braced for impact. The ship was likely going to bite it on the side of the deck like a basketball smashing the rim. When they got close enough, he could see right into her eyes.

Then, something strange came about. His vision was suddenly clouded in gray and he wondered if this was simply a pre-death symptom. The woman pulled her hands apart as if tearing something open, and just as she did, a large flying creature swept in and snatched her off the ground.

The ship was thrown off balance and kicked upwards, no longer descending. He wasn't sure what was happening but he was starting to faint. Theo's vision clouded up and the last thing he remembered was being thrown across the room.

He wasn't sure if the airship had exploded or landed. And if he was dead, this was a sour note to leave on.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed it. I have very interesting things planned for this story, so don't forget to follow it. And please leave a review! I'd like to hear your thoughts on it.**


	2. Relatively Unimportant

**A/N: Originally, I had a lot more planned for this chapter, but anything too large is incredibly difficult to swallow whole. This chapter is a little slower as it lays out the plans for the chapter to follow, which will thrust the plot into motion. Enjoy, guys!**

**Review Responses:**

**MrCheeseCake54 - Booker will not be in the story as a living, breathing character. It's a little complicated to explain, but you'll get some context for the plot by the end of this chapter. Sorry! Hope I didn't dash your hopes for this :/**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Relatively Unimportant**

* * *

_"Power thrives in shadows where it cannot be measured in flesh and bone."_

_- Mr. Torga_

* * *

The thing is, I know what you want.

Is that right?

You want what every one of us wants to have. Freedom.

That freedom is worthless now.

Not so.

What do you mean?

It's better if I show you. I can show you how we will be free.

Why did you choose me?

Because I know that look, the kind when a man is willing to go to any lengths, to lose himself and all of what he believes, to keep this world whole.

What will it take?

Everything. You might not survive.

I'll do whatever it takes.

So will they.

* * *

**Denzel Hospital - The Vales, 3rd Sector**

Theo opened his eyes and took his first conscious breath, letting the air fill his lungs. It felt like all his senses returned to him at once; the musty smell of the old hallways and the sound of mechanical pumps keeping his body's fluids balanced dominated over the others. There was also a soft incandescence coming through the window, giving the room a sense of warmth that he didn't completely expect.

"Relax," a feminine voice said.

He turned to his right and noticed a nurse adjusting his IV. She was serene and almost unsurprised that he was here.

"Did I die?"

The nurse looked over to him and chuckled. "Why? Is it because I look like an angel?"

She was older, probably in her thirties and working to support children whose father was nearly never home in the daytime. It was surprising that she'd smile, given that the stress she'd undergone through her work had manifested in some gray hairs. He didn't think more of it. Wherever he was, at least his brain was working.

"You're on the south side of Columbia, in the Vales," she told him, stressing the word Vales like it was undesirable. "They brought you in unconscious. Thought you'd be in a coma for awhile."

"How long?"

"Three days," she said. "But honestly, you didn't look like you'd make it."

Then, she put a hand on her lips.

"I'm sorry. Shouldn't have been so quick to judge you."

Theo allowed himself to chuckle. "You wouldn't be the first. And you might not have been wrong."

"A fifty-fifty chance, you mean."

"It could've happened."

"You don't suppose maybe you were meant to make it?"

He thought a little more. "Not sure if that really matters anymore. I'm alive."

She gave him a warm smile, but then he doubted himself.

"Unless I'm _really_ dead, and this floating city is actually heaven. And you're really an angel, here to judge exactly how I've lived my life."

"So?" she asked with her eyebrows raised, entertaining the thought. "How _have_ you lived your life?"

This question stopped Theo in his tracks. He mulled over it for a second, but when he did, he couldn't remember anything at all. Just a blank. It was a shock, like someone had just infiltrated his mind and stole everything important on there, leaving only feelings behind. And he felt regret. Despite this, he couldn't believe this was happening, and tried to mentally grasp at certain things, like who he was or where he came from.

"Don't answer that," she said to him in a consoling voice. "It's not my business to know what a man does with his life, or how he spends it. It is only my business to make sure he has the right to live."

He bit his lip and shoved it away for now. Maybe his memory would return later.

The nurse gestured out the door. "A man came by many times since. Says he's your uncle. Dropped off some clothes for you."

"Really?" he asked. Then, he remembered certain things.

"Says he's never seen you and that you're from San Francisco. Lost your parents in the earthquake," she continued. "My sincerest apologies."

Yes. He was here to help his uncle with work. Now it was becoming clear.

"Where is he?"

"He says he has to get back to the shop he works at, over at Fink Manufacturing. You better chin up there. You have someone who's connected."

Theo sat up and looked around. "I think I'm ready to leave now."

A knock at the doorway. He looked and noticed a somewhat familiar face to him.

"Hey there, boo-boo," she teased with a wink. "Told you I'd get us safe."

He raised his head in recognition. "Right. You're…"

The pilot stepped in the room, dressed in civilian's clothing. Theo prepared himself to be embarrassed because he could not remember her name. And more than that, he remembered her punching him.

"I never introduced myself. My name's Desiree. Desiree Lima. Dez for short."

He shook her hand. "Dez. I'm…"

He was shaking her hand for an extended second or two before finishing, prompting an awkward stare.

"I'm Theodore Lin. Theo," he said, finally remembering.

"Well, Theo, it looks like I saved the day," Dez said, basking in her pride, and then giving him a sincere look. "But thanks for your assistance."

The nurse was undoing the IV hooked up to his arm.

"What is a jaw if not something to punch every now and then?" he asked with a shrug.

"You _eat_ with that," the nurse chimed in.

Dez crossed her arms and chuckled. "I really hope you have more educated questions to ask of me."

"What happened with the ship?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be at the gallows?"

"We busted out of there soon as we landed. The coppers, they arrested the crew that pulled guns. It'll go down as a Vox Populi terrorist attack. And the captain's dead."

Theo remembered the captain, and tried to frame his next words very carefully. "Oh. Was he important to you?"

She was silent for a few seconds, but then cracked a smile. "Of course not. I'm new at piloting. This was my first job with the guy."

"I assume you guys lost my things."

"Correct. It's probably at immigration and processing."

"Why else are you here? I'm not of any real importance."

The nurse finished up and he turned to a side position, sliding his feet and hanging them over the ground. She gave Theo a smile and then left the room.

"Buck told me about why you've flown into the city," Dez said.

"…and I just regretted saying that," he muttered.

Dez held up a hand. "Relax. We're not looking for work. But we _would_ like to meet your uncle."

"Why?"

"We'll let you know when you and I get there. Buck is already at Finkton waiting for us. I saved your life," she said. "And I don't like asking for favors, but in return, I would like this opportunity to meet him."

Theo stepped off from the seat and stretched himself. "Sure. I don't see the harm in that."

But he certainly sensed an uncomfortable encounter in the future, and he hadn't even met his uncle yet. He took a breath and gestured for them to leave. Dez didn't understand.

"I would like to change," he said. "Unless you plan on staying and seeing my 'hardware.' I believe that's pilot-speak."

"I'm not completely opposed to that," she joked with a laugh.

"I'm kidding," Theo then said, dropping his tone. "You haven't earned it yet. Out. Out."

"Sure thing," she said, laughing on her way out the door.

Theo closed the door then eyed the clothes that had been resting on a chair. He lifted up a folded collared shirt, and, to his surprise, it was new. He sized it up to his torso just to see if it fit.

"Nice," he remarked. Theo proceeded to take off his hospital gown as he stepped up to the mirror on the other side of the room.

And when he took off his shirt, he couldn't find any words to express the multitude of scars that were marked on his body like tattoos. The largest one was a line that fell over his left breast towards the sternum. Another was a giant gash on the side of his ribcage. When he turned around, his back was covered in scars as well.

He was still having trouble wondering how he got these scars, and what may have done this to him, only remembering images of distant battlefields and cold gray skies. At the very least, he was somewhat thankful he wasn't going insane; some of his memory was returning, because in his mind it made sense for him to have these scars. He just didn't exactly remember when he got them.

After he put on his clothes, he took a breath and went out the door, keeping this temporary amnesia to himself. He was always like that, never asking for help when he truly needed it, and paying the highest price when he couldn't get over himself.

And he resisted facing that fact, with or without his memory.

Then, his nose began to bleed.

* * *

**Comstock House**

Songbird had dropped her off on the roof entrance after lunch. It was a rare occasion that she should meet her father in his own home, a sign that she had done something terribly wrong. She wondered what kind of punishment her father would have waiting for her, knowing fully that his anger was not something to take lightly. But then again, she did a good thing and stopped the airship from exploding. The bad guys were captured and innocent lives were saved.

"Right this way, miss," a servant said to her, pointing her down a long, red hallway.

She nodded and tentatively headed towards her father's office. There was indistinct chatter coming from the other end, so she guessed that he was in a meeting. Looking at the windows as she went, she remembered just how long it was since she was last here. It had been awhile since she stirred up trouble. And the times before that, Lady Comstock was still here.

"…getting more dangerous by the day. But thankfully we've confiscated those weapons and spoke to the press," spoke a voice. It sounded like Fink's. "Wait outside."

Elizabeth reached the door, and just as she did, the door opened up and a tall, imposing figure stood in front of her.

Mr. Torga had cold green eyes. Behind those eyes she sensed a serious malice treading somewhere in the depths, like an alligator wading in the river with its head poked just above the water. Patient. He watched her with a sort of hunger, like he was closing in on his prey. Maybe he made everyone feel like this.

Up close, his skin was extremely tan, like he spent all his time in the sun, and the scars decorating his bald head made him look like a toy that had been thrown too many times into the ground. He did not move like a hulking brute despite his size but had a slow, elegant, athletic stride that characterized an animalistic tendency. Even though she stood a distance from him, she could feel a heat radiating from his presence. He was someone to be feared, and she acknowledged this by looking away—a gesture of submission. Mr. Torga recognized this, then stepped aside, almost as though he was forcing her to yield to him before allowing her to pass.

Behind him, her father was sitting at his extravagant desk with a hand rubbing his forehead. He was stressed out, but upon seeing Elizabeth, he brightened up.

"Come in, my daughter," he said, neither aggressively nor malevolently.

When she entered the room, Fink was sitting in a chair off to the side, just as troubled as her father was. Mr. Torga shut the door.

"I'm sorry," she started off.

Zachary Comstock held his hand up to stop her from continuing. "Just a moment, dear. Let me finish speaking with Mr. Fink here."

"H-hello, Mr. Fink," she timidly greeted.

The man took off his hat. "Good day, child. I hope all is well with you."

She went and sat down in a comfortable seat next to a portrait of Washington, Jefferson, and Franklin, the Founding Fathers whom her father admired and worshipped. In her studies, though, she noted that these American revolutionaries were not nearly religious as they were rebellious, so she always found it contradictory that her father revered them in such a way. It reminded her that whatever passes in time, history will always be seldom understood in the exact way it was supposed to. The data was too limited, and she hoped for a day when enough information could be compiled for individuals to make their own judgments.

Obviously, her father never shared this sentiment. He believed that people needed a Prophet, a shepherd. But the only problem with leaders of a massive people was that they could only do so much at once, and people may come to resent the entropy of single governance. Long ago, her mother's servant taught her this.

"If they'd gotten those weapons, the Vales would have been lost," Fink said. "God knows all that's down there is Irish folk, blacks, and all sorts of other heathens that follow Fitzroy's every whim."

Fink spoke with a diction that was aimed to please her father, a behavior that was uncommon in his own personality. In reality, Fink was just another unethical businessman looking to keep his dominance over the market. Then, in Columbia's schools, she heard that they preached free markets and fair practices, but these hypocrisies were rarely brought to attention.

"We dodged a bullet," Comstock said.

"So to speak," Fink replied. "We couldn't recover all the immigrants on that boat 'cause the Vox appeared and tried to escort some of their own to safety. The rest of the immigrants were processed. If they keep coming in, we'll have enough to expand Finkton with a few more factories by next year."

Her father glanced over to her when he mentioned the boat.

"Not exactly a perfect weekend this has been," Comstock said. "But alas, I can breathe easier than I ever have."

He loosened the collar around his neck.

"The False Shepherd is dead. So much for that."

"We should throw an even bigger celebration for the fair."

"I do believe celebration is in order. That will do for now, Mr. Fink. I'll leave the festivities to you," Comstock replied with a relieved sigh.

Fink nodded and stood up, putting on his hat. He turned to Elizabeth and tipped his hat to her.

"Miss."

She reciprocated with a smile and he left. The room was silent when Fink was gone save for the sound of the clock ticking back and forth, reaching closer to noon.

"I'm getting old," her father said, clasping his hands together. "Perhaps too old to be angry with you."

"I'm sorry, father."

"You _know_ you weren't supposed to be outside the safe zone, Elizabeth. I've designated certain places that only you can be in because I fear for your safety," he firmly stated.

"I know. I fell into temptation and…"

"I'm angry, my child. You speak of being sorry, but I sense your mother's contrarianism in you. You are not yet a true believer."

She was quick on her feet. "Maybe if I saw the city some more, or if I traveled the world, I would know the evils you speak about."

"The world outside is far too dangerous for you, especially when you've been raised on the righteous virtues of this city," he said, quickly turning down her proposition. "We've discussed this before, and I know this argument inside and out. My answer is still no."

Elizabeth looked away.

"But…" he started.

She returned her gaze to him.

"With all that being said, I'm proud of you for saving that airship. You've already taken your first steps to becoming the defender of this city. You protected the people, and you saved a trade ship with precious materials on board," Comstock emphasized, framing it in a way that she was doing what he wanted. "And the False Shepherd is dead. These are two gifts from God that I shall not be ungrateful for."

"I…thanks, father."

"No punishments for you at this time. I have spent too much time worrying about this False Prophet that I've neglected the most important thing in my life. With that said, the rest of your life begins now, my child. You will have more freedom to know this city that I've built for you, and in time, you will be strong enough to carry my legacy."

Elizabeth wasn't sure if he was being completely genuine, or was trying to persuade her. Maybe both. Parents often had tendencies to do so.

"Thank you."

"You may leave. I will personally schedule more time for you to walk freely within certain zones of the city, and you will be at my side as we move to crush the rebel Vox," he told her. "Until then, look forward to tomorrow, child."

As she went for the door, she suddenly had an urge to stop and tell her father something. He was already going back to work with his reading glasses on, reading over papers of some sort.

"Father."

He raised his head. "Mm?"

"I was at the execution," she said. "And the man, the False Shepherd, he was talking about someone. Anna, I believe."

Comstock locked his gaze on her and immediately dismissed it. "Probably someone related. He was a False Shepherd, and by definition, his words were nothing but poison to all who listened. Consider it Satan's death rattle."

"But—"

"I'm afraid I'm busy, child. Think nothing of it."

Elizabeth didn't want to push the issue, sensing that her father would become furious. She figured that he just wanted to shove this False Prophet ordeal aside, and agreed to not talk about it. On the other hand, she had earned a little more freedom and rejoiced. This was a good day.

As she headed out to hallway, she noticed that Mr. Torga was still there, but was waiting smack dab in the middle leaning against a wall next to a portrait of Lady Comstock. Elizabeth was certain that there would be a confrontation, and decided it would be best if she walked past him confidently. She pulled up on her sleeves and attempted to ignore him as they intersected.

"Don't wander too far outside anymore," he spoke. His voice was unexpectedly charismatic, and almost didn't sound like it would even be coming from the same person. The breathing support that wrapped around his jaw and nose pumped air into his lungs as he inhaled.

She stopped in her tracks and faced him.

"Why?"

"A tempest comes this way. It is in your best interest that you exclude yourself from it."

"I'm free to go where I want now. My father will protect me."

Torga chuckled. "Just as he did your entire life?"

She was confused.

"You have a powerful gift. And when the war reaches these halls, you'll discover that they are more interested in what you have than who you are."

"You mean the Vox. My father won't let that happen."

"Your father's power relies on men like me to stop that from happening," Torga said. "Power thrives in the shadows where it cannot be measured in flesh and bone. But in the flames of chaos and war, the creatures that hide behind power are finally revealed."

He pushed away from the wall and uncrossed his arms.

"And these creatures bleed, crack, and break, as men do."

Mr. Torga walked away after those last words, and Elizabeth wondered exactly what he was referring to. If he was attempting to scare her into not causing trouble, he was doing a decent job at it.

* * *

**Finkton Streets**

"Too many places like this," she said, watching the workers move in and out. "Reminds me of back home, but with more enthusiasm for exploitation."

The worker's raffle was taking place as they walked by, and poor folk attended in droves. A kindhearted missionary could be handing out free food and not one in this starving horde would notice. They stood next to a lightpost waiting for Buck to come along. Theo was munching on an apple, staring at the large clock monitoring the entire district that only had labels of when to work, rest, and wake.

"Sometimes I think it's all just one lie after the next," Dez continued on. "No matter where you're from, there are always poor folk who don't get helped."

"The hungry don't get fed."

She looked at him. "You sound like you don't care."

"I've seen enough suffering that I know I can't save everyone," Theo said, tossing the apple core away.

He didn't know if there was a memory attached to that statement, but it felt right to say it. Along the wall were posters of Fink, promoting another expansion of his district by next year.

"Whoever this Fink guy is," Theo said, "he is a small man who casts an enormous shadow. His authority runs on illusions."

"And bullets. You sound like Daisy."

"Who?"

Dez shrugged off his question. "If you stay in touch, you might get to meet her."

"Look who's up," said Buck, coming from down the sidewalk. He had a worker's cap on and looked like he had spent the day waiting. In fact, neither of them looked like they belonged here, despite the attire. They didn't have those tired, worn-out faces that had seen too many workdays.

They shook hands. Theo was expecting a few more surprises from Buck, as he hardly carried the same accent he assumed on the ship. It was convincing, but once the illusion had worn off, the seed of suspicion was firmly planted. Then again, maybe he was going crazy.

Theo mentally patted himself on the back. At least he remembered yesterday.

"Where's my uncle's shop?" he asked.

"Just down there. We're right behind you."

He was about to ask more questions, but decided to head over to the shop instead. They followed him as he crossed the street and circled the crowd of people at the raffle. It wasn't long before he reached the gun shop, which looked like one of the first things that had been built here. Its walls were made of old wood and the paint was chipping with the intention of making the shop look like it wasn't that important.

"It looks just like the picture," he said, reaching into his back pocket. "Ah, shit. It's in my luggage."

The door opened up and two men came out carrying an extremely heavy crate. Behind them, a woman—who seemed to be higher class—followed them.

"Be careful with the stairs! Don't hurt yourselves," she called to them, concerned for their safety.

"We got it, Mrs. Lin. Thanks," one of the young men called back to her. She waved to them and retreated indoors.

Dez and Buck traded glances, like they had just found the unexpected. Theo decided not to wait any longer and walked up the steps into the store. The doors were opened, so he wasn't sure whether to knock or not, but this had to be the right place. Past the counter hung a broad sign that was labeled "CHEN LIN: GUNSMITH, MACHINIST." He peeked around and noticed that the woman was busy jotting down something on paper.

"Yes? Please come in," she said, not looking up. "Mr. Lin is a little busy. Just give him a few minutes."

"I'm actually here to meet him," Theo said.

"Your name?"

"Theodore," he told her, but paused. "Lin."

She stopped writing, and her eyes slowly made their way up, both surprised and happy. The lady smiled.

"Of course!" she said, rounding the counter and coming to meet him. "We were expecting you!"

She gave him an unexpectedly powerful hug that interrupted his breath, then put her hands to his cheeks.

"We're so happy you aren't hurt," the lady said.

"Uh, thanks?"

She must be his uncle's wife, and though the idea of their marriage didn't interrupt his reality so much, he couldn't say the same for Dez and Buck, who were still waiting in the doorway. Instead, Theo was more surprised that she greeted him so openly, and in his heart, he couldn't recall the last time someone had met him with such open arms. Even if he couldn't remember much.

"My name is Ingrid," she said. "I am your aunt."

"It's a pleasure," Theo replied.

The woman gracefully backed away and acted more ladylike. "I will let him know that you're here. He's going to be happy to know you've awoken."

Ingrid signaled for them to wait just a moment and disappeared into the back room. The open door released the rat-at-at sound of the machines that molded steel into instruments of war. He walked over to the counter and leaned on it, casually resting down his elbow as he waited. But the awkward silence in the room, with the exception of the machine hard at work, bit at his consciousness. When he couldn't stand it anymore, he looked at the other two, who had stepped into the store and closed the front door behind them.

"What?" he asked.

"You didn't tell me your uncle was with a white woman," Buck said.

The other two were a little more ecstatic about it than Theo was.

"And?"

Dez dropped her head. "_Theo_. Where's your head at? She looks like a real 'white woman.' You know, from the white bread side of Columbia. She's probably connected to the Founders."

He was blank-faced.

"Of course. You've never lived here. You don't know. This means so much more," she said.

"For who?" Theo impulsively asked.

It was a surprisingly good question that stopped her in her tracks. Neither she nor Buck had any clue as to what to say, and actually seemed rather impressed that he was quick to catch on to their overexcitement.

"You have some explaining to do later," he said when no reply came his way.

Some talking in Cantonese could be heard behind the door; it seemed like nervous banter, but Theo was surprised he couldn't make much of it. Had he forgotten how to speak in Cantonese too? Then again, looking in the mirror this morning, he hardly looked purely Chinese. If he remembered correctly, he was a mix of all sorts of backgrounds. It was his father who was Chinese, and he was born in San Francisco. His mother, he couldn't remember much.

The door swung open and Chen Lin came out speaking in his native tongue rather rapidly, too fast for Theo to comprehend. The man tossed aside the dirty apron he'd been using and approached him with open arms. When they embraced, Theo was nearly suffocated with a powerful whiff of iron. His uncle had the hands of a mechanic, rough and stained black from countless hours of tweaking machines, and for some reason Theo imagined he'd be more cynical. And for some reason, he felt like he hadn't seen someone close for a long time; his throat was feeling a little swollen.

Chen Lin asked him something in Cantonese, but he didn't understand.

"You don't speak?" his uncle asked.

Theo shook his head. "No, I don't."

"Let me get a look at you."

His uncle held him away at the shoulders and examined him up close, patting his arms, feeling the sinews in his body. The elders almost always did something like this; they enjoyed witnessing their juniors growing stronger.

"You're strong!" Chen said in a heavy accent. "And tall like white boys."

Theo hardly considered himself tall. He was 5'10 at the most.

His uncle muttered some things in Cantonese again, this time to Ingrid, who looked like she understood what he was saying.

"I knew we should have put you on regular transport. Thought you be safe on Vox ship."

Dez and Buck visibly reacted to that last sentence, just enough that Theo could recognize them.

"_Ai yah_," Chen swore under his breath. "Glad you're here. Welcome to Finkton. This my shop. I will show you later when you feel better."

Then he looked at Dez and Buck.

"Friends?"

Theo looked at them as well. He wasn't sure what to do, but Dez stopped his thoughts short of completion.

"My name's Desiree," she said. "This is Buck. We were just on the transport ship and wanted to thank Theo for helping us out."

They shook hands with Chen and Ingrid.

"He's quite a hero," Buck said. "He helped us land that thing while the police were tearing it apart from the inside out."

Theo still had trouble accepting Buck's real diction. The first impressions were almost always firmly engrained.

"They've gotten more brazen ever since Fink hired that man, or _thing_, as his head of security," Ingrid replied.

"Who?" Dez asked.

"He only goes by Mr. Torga," she answered. "He arrived half a year ago, and I suspect he's part of the reason for Fink's improved technology."

"Sounds bad for us. The last time I was here, cleaning up the Vales hasn't been really important."

"Speaking of important, I need to get my things," Theo said, changing the topic. "My memory's not doing really well, and I can't remember what I brought. But there's something important in there."

He was reaching out to people he wasn't sure he could trust, but he felt like he could rely on his uncle and aunt.

"The remnants of that ship crash were picked up by the Smuggling Investigations Department," Ingrid chimed in. "What was the ticket number?"

Theo thought for a moment. "I think it was 042."

"I'll remember. It's a ways from here, but I can probably get it back for you."

"What do you do?" Buck asked.

The question was just pointed enough that Theo could feel he wasn't asking just because he was interested.

"I'm a trained Psychological Developer," she said.

"Really? That's interesting. Do you have an office in the Mains?" he continued on, diffusing his last statement.

She shook her head. "It's not fancy. I basically take care of people, watch them closely and help them manage their stress. I'm a highly paid caretaker. For the last several years, I've worked with the upper-level Founders, because of Chen's connections to Fink. I work on Monument Island."

"Comstock's Lamb," Chen whispered to them, as though telling a secret.

Ingrid lightly slapped his shoulder. "_Honey_! It's nothing really. She's a nice girl, and very expressive. We all know young ladies need someone to talk to now and again. Especially princesses who live in towers."

"Don't you think she'd need a man to talk to?" Theo innocently butted in.

"_Sir_!" Ingrid snapped, sparing no one. He promptly shut his mouth.

"Holy…I didn't know you were so connected," Dez remarked. "Congratulations. That must be amazing to experience. I should become a psychological developer too."

The Lamb? Who was that? Theo's eyes almost dilated, focused, at hearing the description of the girl in the tower, like an instinctive switch that turned itself on. He imagined that he'd hear more about his aunt's line of work in the days to come. Right after that short banter, Dez tapped Theo on the shoulder.

"Well, Theo, it was nice meeting your relatives," she said. "Buck and I are going to go. Got some work to do."

Theo shook her hand, somewhat surprised that they didn't stick around longer and peg him with more questions. "Alright, Dez. I'll catch you later. And thanks again."

"Yep," she said. "Try to live it down one day. I don't want to hear that you've wasted your life."

Buck shook his hand next. "Don't listen to that. She's just trying to pressure you. You be sure to take it easy."

While looking at each other in the eye, Theo felt like they were having a completely different conversation altogether.

"We'll keep in touch."

The two shipmates headed to the door after saying their goodbyes to Chen and Ingrid, but before they got out, Ingrid stopped them.

"Wait, what did Theo mean by thanks?" she asked. "What did you do on that ship?

Dez was quick on her feet to turn around. "I'm part of the handling crew the captain hired out for that trip. I got him to safety."

Then they left.

* * *

**The Tower – Monument Island – a couple days later…**

The miniature Songbird rang on the stand, but she was too tired to reach over and turn it off. Elizabeth let the alarm clock's annoying screech fill her bedroom for another few moments, though she didn't know how long it really was. While sleeping, time seemed to skip minutes ahead whenever she'd shut her eyes. Soon later, a hand came down and shut off the clock.

"Napping a little too long, young lady," Ingrid said.

Elizabeth rubbed her eyes and shifted from her position on the couch. "What time is it?"

"It's late," her caretaker informed. "Did you want to pick up a dress for the Raffle and Fair this weekend?"

"So…so you heard."

Ingrid stepped back and brushed a hand along her dress. "I was informed by one of your father's assistants."

"Does it bother you?"

Her servant smirked. "_I'm_ usually the one who asks the questions."

She sat up on the couch and removed the blanket that was draped over her—probably Ingrid's work.

"I hope you're still not mad at me."

Ingrid came over and sat next to her. "Getting lost in a bloodthirsty crowd outside the designated zone and standing right next to the edge where you may have plummeted to a certain death…"

Elizabeth looked down, a little embarrassed. "It tops that one time I ended up at the Raven sex cult thinking it was a Halloween party."

Ingrid rolled her eyes. "The world nowadays…"

"But I saved those people," she said in defense.

"Yes, you did," Ingrid acknowledged, caressing her cheek as a mother would.

The gesture was warm, and Elizabeth sensed that there was a deeper appreciation for doing what she'd done. Despite her caretaker's obvious condemnation of her actions, she was actually showing gratitude for what had happened.

"So you're happy?"

"Yes, quite so."

She leaned in a little closer to Ingrid like a child would. "Good. I'm glad."

"Why don't you get dressed, dear? You have an appointment with the finest dressmaker in the city in a few hours."

Elizabeth rose from her seat. "What? Since when?"

"Since your father scheduled one for you," Ingrid replied, standing up as well. "We can have dinner, as well, and I will have to teach you proper dining manners. Your father plans to fully reveal you at the Raffle."

This was new. She didn't know what to say.

"I'll be downstairs at the shuttle, waiting for you. And please don't be too long, dear. The world does not wait. Not even for the Lamb of Columbia."

Ingrid headed for the exit door and waved goodbye to her, leaving her with a paralyzing amount of questions that would take long to answer. She didn't know what to do except pace around, her footsteps echoing throughout the watchtower as the sunset painted her walls orange. Elizabeth walked around towards the bookshelf and was just about to go upstairs when she noticed a man sitting in one of the wooden chairs below with his head buried in one of the books—specifically, "Barriers to Trans-Dimensional Travel." She nearly missed seeing him due to the sudden responsibilities dumped on her lap.

"Hey," she called.

"Hey yourself," a female voice replied right over her shoulder.

Elizabeth flinched and almost lost her balance on the steps. At the top of the stairs was Rosalind Lutece, sitting in another chair enjoying a cup of tea.

"Wha…how did you?"

"If you're going to start a sentence, my darling, I suggest you finish it. Your instincts do not lie."

She couldn't believe her eyes, but then again, most of what she was capable of rendered others speechless.

"I saw you at the hanging," she said.

"And I saw you opening a tear on a ship that was supposed to go down in flames," Robert said, coming up the stairs after her.

"Naughty, naughty," Rosalind said, wagging her finger. "It's been awhile since you've caused so much trouble."

Elizabeth remembered frequent visits from Lutece when she was younger, and learned much about her own capabilities from those sessions. It was like going to school, except she had access to the best physicist known to the world. Then, like the wind, she disappeared and Elizabeth never saw her again. Until now, that is.

"Where have you been?" she found herself asking.

"Everywhere, of course."

She was coming up with her next question, but the woman stopped her before she could commit to asking.

"It is not for you to know. It is for you to trust yourself and let the path be revealed to you," Robert said. "We are here to deliver something."

Rosalind reached into her jacket pocket and produced a piece of paper. She handed it over to Elizabeth, but was not keen on letting it go that easily.

"Don't lose this."

Elizabeth nodded. "Alright."

When she held the paper in her hand, she realized it was more like an inventory tag—a traveler's ticket that would retrieve luggage after a flight. On it said, "VALE INVENTORY AIR," and she recognized it as a low-class flight. Down below that was the flight name: ITV RAINCHASER.

"The Rainchaser?" she asked. "Luggage number 042."

"Please retrieve that tomorrow before you go to the Raffle," Rosalind told her. "He'll need it."

She looked up from the ticket. "Who?"

"It's not a heavy bag, but very important," Robert said, ignoring her question. "Please, please, please don't look inside it. It will hurt you."

"And you'll know exactly who the package is for, trust us," Rosalind said.

"I don't even know if I can. Tell me why I should trust you."

They were silent, and Elizabeth felt like she'd asked a question that was not supposed to be asked. She looked between them and awaited an answer, but wasn't sure if they were thinking of one or just passing the time. Their faces were blank.

"I don't want to tell you that you're not important," Robert said.

"You're not meant to know this, but I will say that you will be critical to things that happen in the immediate now."

"But _now_ is not _now_, if you know what I mean. By that, we're talking about now being later. Far later. And right now, you're not supposed to exist."

Those latter words caught her by the throat. "What?"

Rosalind stood up and grabbed a newspaper that was sitting to her side, which didn't look too old but definitely not like the papers around here. She expanded it and hid her face between the large, thin pages.

"Obituaries. Anna DeWitt, activist of women's suffrage after the First World War and outspoken advocate of the Civil Rights movement, passed away today in her sleep. She was next to her loved ones as she passed…blah, blah, blah…she was ninety-something…blah, blah, blah…something, something Berlin Wall goes down."

"What are you talking about?" Elizabeth asked, reaching for the newspaper. She took the paper and held it in her hands for a moment, reading material that made absolutely no sense to her whatsoever. But that was certainly her picture. Her old picture. Before she could read long, Rosalind snatched it back and began walking downstairs.

"Notice that there's no mention of Columbia in there," Robert said.

Elizabeth and Robert followed her down as she reached the fireplace and tossed the newspaper into it. For a moment, Elizabeth really wanted to pull the paper back out just so she could have a look, but clearly it was something from somewhere else. Was it from a tear, maybe? She also noticed the name, "Anna."

"That's from the future, isn't it?" Elizabeth asked. "From another reality. Another universe."

She remembered the tears that allowed her to see Paris, though from a completely different time frame.

"In the right frame of mind, you could say that's from _the_ universe—s," Rosalind told her, watching the newspaper crumple into black as the flames crackled and popped. "The important thing you should know is this."

The woman turned around from the fireplace.

"You are not supposed to have this knowledge. You are nothing more than leftover residue from a finished operation and by all means, we shouldn't even be here. Your true mark as Anna DeWitt has already been made, but you are, for better or worse, different, and you will play an extremely important role in things to come."

Robert walked forward to join his sister. "You will know more in time. You live in a broken record," he said, then looked at his watch. "And you don't have long before the reset. Just remember that none of what you see, or what you are, is of any importance."

Those words weren't really encouraging. Elizabeth looked down, her mind racing with predictions, speculations, and theories about what was going on. She just simply found what they said unbelievable, though it wasn't as vexing as attempting to understand them. A hand came and gently lifted her chin.

"Relax, darling. It's all relative," Rosalind said.

Elizabeth shut her eyes and took a breath, but when she opened them they were gone.

* * *

**A/N: It was so painful to give you guys just little sprinkles of what's really happening with the plot! I'm at work on the next chapter right now, which will be that infamous raffle in which baseballs of ultimate righteousness are thrown in the name of the master race. Haha, only kidding. Something interesting will happen, though. Stay tuned, everyone!**


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